


It's Just Destiny, A Matter Of Fate

by IcyHeartGirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lancelot didn't die, Magic Revealed, Nobody is Dead, Rating May Change, the relationship tags are not romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29581905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyHeartGirl/pseuds/IcyHeartGirl
Summary: Merlin always knew destiny had something against him, some sort of grudge maybe, for always trying to thwart it or stop it in its tracks. He just didn't know, didn't think, to be careful of destiny retaliating at him. He was too busy watching out for Arthur he forgot that he was always in just as much danger, if not more. Well... he wouldn't forget anymore if he got out of this alive. If Arthur would let him get out of this alive.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Kudos: 14





	It's Just Destiny, A Matter Of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to upload something with chapters and I'm still writing this as I upload so please be patient with me. Don't hesitate to leave a review or message me to remind me to upload as well. lol   
> The number of chapters will most probably change.

“What does it feel like?”  
He never knows how to answer that. 

“Like breathing.”  
Because it was everything, it was natural, and he didn’t know how to not do it. 

“Like a warm hug.”   
Because he can feel it everywhere, in the leaves, in the trees, in the creek, the birds that the old lady likes to feed in the town center.

“Like the first sip of a good wine.”  
Because sometimes he closes his eyes and feels the way it flows inside him, warm and hearty, all the way from somewhere deep in his core and outward. 

“Like nothing you would ever believe, but everything good you could ever imagine in one instance spread out into every moment.”  
Because it’s hard to describe the best thing you know and the best thing that was in every good memory you have that still warms and tickles your skin.

He stares into the fire and imagines that he can smell his burning clothes, his searing flesh, and hear his screams in the crackle-pop of the firewood. Closing his eyes he leans back until his head hits the trunk of the tree and slouches against it, tired of the lies and tired of telling the truth. 

Too used to the disguises. Too used to playing the fool. Since when did it stop being for Arthur’s sake and for his own instead? Merlin doesn’t know but he knows that that was the point he probably realized he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Doesn’t expect to be. 

He knows Arthur is still watching him from a swords-length away, will always be watching from a swords-length away now. Merlin doesn’t expect any less, didn’t expect anything less, yet he can’t help the pain. 

“Did you kill my father?” Arthur whispers and this is a test, a wish, the last hope; but Merlin is tired of lying and doesn’t want to lie and Arthur deserves to know.

“In a way, yes.” Merlin opens his eyes and watches for Arthur’s reaction and flinches.

The sword is at his throat in a flash, cutting a shallow line at his pulse, and Arthur’s hand is steady as he heaves angry breaths in and out. Merlin could explain, should explain, and would have explained had it been any other time but he is tired and Arthur has the only weapon in the world that has a fraction of a chance of killing him at his throat leaving a line of blood trickling down to his neckerchief and so... he keeps quiet. 

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” Because it shouldn’t, it was his father and Merlin who had killed him.  
“It does… It does to me. Why? I thought you were… We were… I trusted you.” Arthur’s voice wavered and faltered, the picture of the great King breaking down at the betrayal. 

“Arthur… if I explained would you believe me?”

The silence that follows along with the steady blade at Merlin’s neck answers the question and Merlin thinks that he always knew it was going to come to this. To a sword that he had burnished in dragon fire with his own hand at his throat. To the man that he would kill and die and live for being the one to hold that very sword at his neck. Merlin would never have allowed anyone else. Arthur would never have allowed anyone else… before.

Merlin closes his eyes again, feels a tear fall to join the blood dripping down his neck, imagines Arthur’s voice from so long ago telling him, "No man is worth your tears." 

Merlin was never a knight, never a prince taught in the ways of war from birth, he was a farm boy caught in destiny's cruel claws and he was tempered too late. His edges are dull instead of sharp and so he is weak, he has too many tears to shed. Every man is worth his tears. Most especially the one in front of him.

Arthur had always been worth everything… even the things that led to having a sword at his neck.


End file.
